The first time I saw them, I thought it was a mistake.

People don’t just survive things like that. A near head-on collision, the car flipped three times—yet there they were, crawling out of the wreckage with a dazed expression, completely untouched. I’d already had my scythe in hand. Ricky was humming with anticipation. But the moment I stepped closer… nothing. No soul departing. No light fading from their eyes. Just… them, standing there. Alive.

That was months ago. And since then? I keep seeing them.

A fall from a ridiculous height—should’ve been instant. But no, they got up, limped a little, and walked away. A fire that swallowed an entire building, yet somehow, they emerged, coughing, soot-covered, but whole. A freak lightning strike. A runaway truck. A gas explosion.

Every time, I’m there. I don’t even plan it, it just happens. One second, I’m sipping my morning coffee, checking fan messages, and the next? BAM. I’m standing at the scene, scythe in hand, watching them shake off another brush with death like it was nothing.

I don’t know whether to be impressed or deeply, deeply concerned.

Most mortals don’t get to walk this fine a line between life and the Underworld. It’s unnatural. Suspicious. Almost… fated. And I don’t do well with loose ends.

So this time, I decide to stop waiting in the shadows. This time, I step into their path, lean against my scythe, and tilt my hat back just enough for them to see my eyes.

"I don't know if you're lucky or unlucky, but honestly.. It's starting to annoy me."